“Logan—”
“No, let me say this. I’m not mad. Not anymore.” He paused, trying to decide the best way to say what he was thinking. “I wanted to be there for you after Sunday with your family. I wanted to prove to you that I wouldn’t just up and leave because things got hard. But that was what I wanted. What I needed. Not what you did, and I understand that now.”
He watched Tate’s face, trying to gauge what he was thinking from his expression, but he was giving nothing away, just quiet contemplation, so he continued.
“If you want to talk about what happened last week, I want you to know that I’m here to listen. That’s all. I don’t think I actually got to say that.”
Having said what he wanted, Logan waited to see if Tate had anything to add. He didn’t immediately talk, but then he said softly, “Last week was rough.”
Logan figured as much. If it’d been rough on him, he couldn’t imagine how Tate had felt.
“I switched up my shifts with Amelia just to take some time, and—”
“To make sure I didn’t track you down?”
Tate gave him an apologetic shrug. “Maybe a little. Like it mattered in the scheme of things. You know where I live.”
“Yeah. But you knew I wouldn’t go there. You told me not to.”
Tate scratched his stomach and asked, “Is it fucked up that I kind of wanted you to?”
Logan felt his chest tighten as he made himself answer. “No. You’ll never know how much I wanted to.”
Tate sighed, and rubbed his eyes. “I called my mom on Monday. She didn’t answer. I left her a message that I wanted to talk, and she never called back.”
Hearing that made Logan’s blood boil. Nothing pissed him off more than closed-minded bigots, but he kept his mouth shut. This was, after all, Tate’s family.
“I called again Tuesday, and still nothing. No answer, no reply to my voicemail. So I decided to try Jill. Her phone didn’t even ring. It just went straight to voicemail as if she’d just ignored me. Ignored her brother after knowing what happened. Who does that?” Tate’s voice slowly rose as his disgust took ahold of him, and then he placed an arm over his eyes.
Sometimes it was easier to say the hard things when you pretended no one was listening.
“Wednesday, I called again, and…” Tate paused and Logan waited—for what, he wasn’t sure. “I called…and my mom’s phone has been disconnected.”
Oh fuck. How can someone—no, not someone, Tate’s parents—just fucking cut him off?
It was infuriating, sickening, and Logan had no clue how Tate seemed so put together. But he kept his mouth shut and waited to see what else he had to say.
“That was a pretty shitty night,” Tate admitted and removed his arm to look at him. His brown eyes were full of turmoil from the inner conflict he was still dealing with, but they were also full of something else—conviction. “I knew they were going to be mad, but I never thought for a second they would disown me. Their own son. So I made a decision.”
Logan didn’t realize he was holding his breath until Tate sat up and clasped his arms around his knees.
“I was going to live for me,” he announced. “For what makes me happy. And you make me happy, Logan.”
Logan exhaled as Tate pinned him with serious eyes.
“You make me crazy and furious and out of my mind with need, but in the end, you make me so fucking happy. I can’t ever remember feeling this way. And no one is going to tell me it’s wrong. No one.”
* * *
Logan looked across the room to the man he thought he’d lost and said exactly what he was feeling.
“I love you.”
Tate didn’t move except to smile as he replied, “I love you too.”
Logan had never believed words more as they lingered between them.
The only thing he still needed to know was if Tate accepted them as a couple—together. If, when it really came down to being out in public, being associated with him as his other half, Tate was ready for that.
Would he ever be?
Logan wondered the best way to approach his concern and stated softly, “A lot happened this past week, and a lot was said. I need to know what you mean when you say those words to me, Tate. And if it’s the same as what I mean.”
Tate looked at him over his knees and then frowned. “I don’t understand. I told you how I feel.”
“I know.”
“Then what are you talking about? Do you still not believe me?”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Then what? Because that’s what it sounds like.”
Logan raised his glass and finished his drink before placing it down on the side table. “It’s easy to say words, but sometimes following them through is harder. That’s all.”
“Are you serious right now?” Tate demanded, quickly getting to his feet. “I’m pretty sure I followed through, Logan.”
Logan could tell he’d once again said the wrong thing, and he scrambled to get it right. “Don’t be mad. I’m saying this all wrong.”
“Then start saying it right.” Tate glared at him.
Logan scooted forward on the seat. “Please sit back down,” he implored.
Tate took a seat, this time on the couch, and waited.
Shit. This is not how I imagined telling him. Not while he’s pissed off at me.
But then again, when it came to spilling his guts, he was fantastic at putting his foot in his mouth. Around Tate, he seemed like a fucking professional.
“I want to tell you something about me. The reason I don’t…didn’t date up until now.” He swallowed and looked Tate in the eye. “Until you.”
Tate remained silent, and then he finally uncrossed his arms. “I thought it was because of Chris.”
“It was…”
As his voice trailed off, Tate said quietly, “So tell me then.”
Thinking about it and actually saying it were totally different. So he decided why not start with the biggest shock first.
“I didn’t just date Chris in college.”
Tate didn’t say anything, just sat staring at him as if he hadn’t even spoken.
“I also dated him for two years once I was out.”
That got a response.
“Wait. What? I thought you two ended things after Cole kicked his ass.”
Logan raised a shaky hand and rubbed his fingers across his lips. He’d never told anyone what he was about to say. Not even Cole.
“We did end our relationship in college. After months of spending all my spare time with him, thinking we had something real, it ended rather publicly in his dorm hall by him punching me in the face. He pretty much told me to fuck off, and luckily for me, Cole happened to see and broke it up.”
Tate tilted his head to the side, confused. “Right, and then you said you slept with all his girlfriends.”
Did I? Shit. He didn’t even remember telling Tate that part.
“Yeah, I kind of made it my mission to prove I was better off without him.” He laughed self-deprecatingly. “Guess I really failed making that point.”
“You’re telling me that you started dating again, out of college? When? Where did you even see him?” Tate paused and then asked, “Is he a lawyer too?”
Logan shook his head.
Fuck. He really didn’t want to get into all of this, but he knew it needed to be said.
“I ran into him at a club.”
“A club? Like a dance club?”
“No,” he said, keeping his voice calm as he explained, “A sex club.”
Tate’s eyebrows nearly hit the top of his hairline as his jaw fell open.
“It was my first time there. And my last. I was young and heard about this private club that had the most beautiful men who would do whatever you wanted—if you paid the price. I was curious and…I had the money.”
“So that’s what you spent it on?”
“Hey. It was one time, and I didn’t actually do anything becau
se I walked in the door, saw him in the foyer, and turned around to get the hell out of there.”
Tate looked as if he were trying to catch up. “Then how—”
“He recognized me.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “He followed me outside and caught up to me.”
“Did he look the same?” Tate asked as if he didn’t really want to know but couldn’t help himself.
He wasn’t about to lie, so he answered honestly. “He looked better.”
“Of course he did,” Tate mumbled.
Logan waited until Tate turned to him, and then he gave a half smile. “You’re a million times sexier than he could ever hope to be.”
Tate rolled his eyes. “Keep going.”
Logan smirked and then got back on track.
“At first, he was”—he thought back to that night and could clearly remember the panic on Chris’s face—“freaked out. It was gay night at the club, and he didn’t think he’d run into anyone he knew due to the high price tag. The last fucking person I’m sure he expected to see was me.”
“So what’d he do?” Tate asked, seeming genuinely curious.
“He asked me what I was doing there. I told him I was there to fuck as many guys as I could for the price of admission. Then he grabbed my shirt, pulled me close, and whispered in my ear—” Logan stopped.
“What?” Tate demanded, pulling him from the past. “What did he say to you, Logan?”
Logan blinked away the memory and focused again on the man encouraging him to open up and trust him.
“He whispered, ‘Pity you already paid. I would’ve fucked you for free.’”
Tate’s eyes widened. He stood and started pacing the length of the living room before stopping in front of the fireplace and reaching out to put a hand on the stone mantel. He then turned to face Logan where he was still seated.
“I really hate this fucker.”
I do too.
“Just finish the story, would you? So I never have to hear it again.”
Logan stood, walked over to where Tate was standing, and did as requested.
“I loved the fact that he wanted me again, and even though I knew I shouldn’t, I wanted him too. So I let him fuck me behind the club that night, and I loved it. It wasn’t gentle. It was brutal and hard, and a small part of me believed I deserved it since I was the sick fuck who was still hard for a guy who’d used me. But that wasn’t the end of it. He took me back to his house and spent the entire night inside me. He told me how much he’d missed me. How he regretted what happened back then and the way he’d treated me. That maybe this was a sign, a second chance—I was stupid enough to believe him.” Logan paused and shook his head. “For the next two years, I was at his beck and call. In private, he was everything I wanted, just like when we were in school. He was attentive, smart, and funny, but just like in college, he made sure to keep me a secret and made me very aware that if I told anyone, it would be over. So no one knew I was seeing him. I wasn’t allowed to call him ever, and I knew nothing about him other than what he told me. When Cole asked who I was seeing, I would lie and tell him no one. Because that’s what Chris wanted, what he asked of me—if I loved him.”
Tate finally turned his head to face him, and Logan could see the question in his eyes.
“Did you love him?”
He’d asked himself that question many times, and all he could come up with was, “When it came to Chris, I was weak, and he knew it. He was my first, and he knew exactly what buttons to push to get to me. I was a fucking hazard to myself back then. You wouldn’t have even recognized me.”
“How’d it finally end?” Tate’s voice was low, and Logan knew he was pissed. Possibly disgusted at the fact he was with a person who’d had such low self-esteem that he’d stayed with someone who wouldn’t acknowledge his existence for years.
Not months—fucking years.
“I broke it off,” Logan said, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Why?”
He didn’t answer right away.
How to say the words? How to admit—
“Why, Logan?” Tate cut in as he angled his face to see him.
“Because I went to work one day and Cole introduced me to his wife. He was so damn happy it was sickening. But at the same time, I realized what I would never have.”
Tate didn’t say anything, so he just continued on.
“They got married two weeks after knowing each other. Did she tell you that? One day I was meeting Rachel, his girlfriend, the next I met Mrs. Madison.”
Tate dropped his hands and turned to face him, shaking his head. “No, she didn’t.”
“Yep. They met months back, briefly. Then Cole chased her down, and two weeks later, they were hitched. Crazy fools. Crazy fools who were in love.”
Logan cupped the back of his neck and grimaced.
“I tried to justify the way Chris treated me. That the more I suffered, the more it proved to him I cared. I held on to the misguided belief that he would eventually introduce me to his family and I’d be able to introduce him to mine. But I knew that would never happen. I knew nothing about him, but he always knew what to say, how to keep me coming back. Just when I would be determined to leave, he’d do something kind or say something right to make me think he cared. He was a master manipulator. But nothing would ever change the fact that he was ashamed to be with me. That’s not love, and eventually, the kindest words twisted and turned into the cruelest ones. So I finally decided to tell him it was over, that I was done.”
Tate looked as if he wanted to say something but instead held his tongue.
“He didn’t take it well, and we got into an argument. I said some horrible things. Things I’m not proud of. But then he tried something he had once before. He went to punch me, but I’d learned that lesson. I was bigger than I was back in college, and stronger...”
Logan swallowed, feeling nauseated. He knew he did a good job of presenting to the world a loud and confident man, but deep down, he was still that college kid—that man who’d let himself believe in forevers…
“He swung his fist…but I beat him to the punch. I landed several to his face and stomach, and he hit the floor at my feet. Just lay there like a fucking sack. But I couldn’t stop. I was so fucking angry I kept going. I’d never wanted to physically hurt someone the way I did him. I wanted him to suffer. Suffer the same way I had for years because of him. For all the times he’d intimidated me, denied me, made me deny myself—made me feel ashamed of who I was.” Logan stopped talking and took several heaving breaths. “If it hadn’t been for Cole once again saving the day by calling my cell phone, I’m not sure I would’ve stopped.” He ceased talking. He didn’t know what else to say.
He’d never told anyone what had happened with Chris, the fact that he’d put the guy in a hospital. He disgusted himself, and when Tate’s hand brushed his shoulder, he wondered how he could bear to touch him.
Logan glanced up to see that his eyes were full of compassion and full of pity.
Pity for me.
“You would’ve stopped,” he whispered.
Logan looked away. He’d never been more ashamed of himself than he was standing there before this man—this honest and decent man.
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
Logan brought his face up so they were eye to eye, and Tate slid his hand up to grip the back of his neck.
“I know you, and Logan…you would’ve stopped.”
Logan clenched his hands inside his pockets, and when Tate took a step closer, he had to steel himself from moving away.
“You were in an abusive relationship, and you finally stood up for yourself. Just because he didn’t beat you daily doesn’t mean he wasn’t abusing you. He was a bully. He made you afraid to be who you were.”
Logan blinked, trying to fight back tears as Tate continued talking. The relief of unburdening himself had now been replaced with the fear o
f what Tate would think.
“He took advantage of your feelings.” Tate paused and then whispered, “Logan?” He refocused on Tate and felt his heart just about stop when he said, “I will never take advantage of you. Not ever. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.”
That right there was what the words ‘I love you’ meant to him—trust—and he had entrusted Tate with every secret he had, even the one he was most ashamed of.
23.
Tate ran his hand down Logan’s shoulder and arm until he could pull his free of his pocket. He interlaced their fingers and drew him toward the center of the living room.
“Lie down with me.”
Logan frowned at him but moved slowly in the direction he was leading him. When they stopped, Tate kissed the corner of his mouth and then slowly knelt at his feet. Once he was there, he watched Logan run a hand back through his hair. The expression on his face was one Tate had never seen before.
He looked lost—and Tate was determined to bring him back.
“Tate, I—”
“Lie down with me,” he asked again, insistent on bringing Logan out of the headspace he was currently in.
Logan didn’t argue this time. Instead, he knelt opposite him and gazed off over his shoulder.
“Be with me,” Tate invited, reaching out to run his fingers along the short hair covering Logan’s jawline. “Put your hands on me, and take me.”
When Logan turned his face back toward him, Tate’s breath caught in his throat. The lost look from moments earlier was gone, replaced with one full of wonderment.
“God, you’re amazing. How’d I get so lucky?”
Tate ran his thumb over Logan’s chin and answered, “Because you’re persistent and pretty damn amazing yourself.”
Logan kissed the thumb stroking him, and then Tate leaned forward and pressed his lips to Logan’s.
A promise—I’m yours. If you want to be mine.
He felt Logan’s hands under the back of his shirt and warm fingers stroked their way up his spine. Goose bumps rose over his skin as Tate lifted his arms and whispered to Logan, “Take it off.”
Logan moved back a little and drew the shirt off him, dropping it to the floor beside them.